| Poster Boy, Fosterville, Kay Slay the Drama King
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| Fuck with the kid, gotta throw ya moms over the bridge
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| RP put the hawk to ya over ya ribs
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| Keep thinkin' that the god is chillin'
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| I’m the reason custies is comin' to the Carter Buildin
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| And it ain’t no tellin what I do
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| They may find ya body on 16th smellin like a (*jew*)
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| I’m the number one stunna when it comes to the east
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| In the Jag with the .40 cal under the seat
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| Nigga this is my block, Name a nigga who run me out
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| Friday come, you and you have your money out
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| Son, my gun’ll bring a playboy bunny out
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| Somebody gotta die, I’m a try ya hunny out
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| Send her to ER with half her tummy out
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| No C-section, no infants comin out
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| She can’t have babies again
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| Me and Kay gettin money so its feelin like the eighties again
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| Holla!
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| Ayo, You boys is silly, I’m next since Pac and Biggie
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| And I’m Bout Major Figgas like Dutch and Gillie
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| Catch Shells all-star weekend down in Philly
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| On my hip, pack heat like a bowl of chilly
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| Look — I Clap milli’s, act willy, you a chump
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| Only kid in the hood with elevators in his truck
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| See, I flash bucks, rock all black doors
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| And my watch ice’d out like Jacobs store
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| When you boys gon learn I got this game lock
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| What you got for your deal, I spent on X-Box
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| Keep frontin like you hungry, I’m a feed you a biscuit
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| I got rock and roll bullets, leave limps like bizkit
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| So hey, its ya life involved — act like it is
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| My chain light gray like trash can lids
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| If one of yall take my chain — none of yall live
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| You like, «I ain’t do it Shells», One of yall did!
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| Cause A lot of yall are fakin', one minute is As-salamu alaykum
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| 2 minutes later is where’s my salami bacon
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| Niggas swear the product they makin' requires rockin an aprin
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| They liars cause its Betty Crocker they bakin
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| Not that I’m sayin that I Cook, Cause I dont
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| But I keep it as raw as you seen it before it was put on the boat
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| The hookers’ll open they jaw for free
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| Fuck being a gentleman, ya girlfriend open the door for me
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| When a pimp walk the beat, you shut up one day
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| The day the dick had ya mother next up one way
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| I come up one way drunk pushin a porshe
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| Make beef and I’m cookin the sauce — Gravy!
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| I be lookin like a boss
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| I pop at ya hood on ya snorkle til I have the fur lookin like a scarf
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| Lookin like I robbed 'em
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| Tell cops is easy to find like chinks in a nail shop
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| Holla, cheah!
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| Ayo, get back get back for I click clack click clack
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| Where that shit at? |
| Get that 'for I bust shots!
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| Get crunk if you want to, drunk if you want to
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| Front if you want to, And get slumped with the gun too
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| Gimme mine cause any time I could run through
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| And put ya brains on the mini blinds in sun roof
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| Try run dog, you can try hide man
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| But when I bust the gun dog, you gon die man
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| I drinkin rum dog and I’m gettin high man
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| Say good bye man or a prayer — «Aman»
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| Look It ain’t hard to get at you dudes
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| I screw waitresses that’ll slip shit in ya food
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| I got yay for sale and I got crazy shells
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| I got it locked from Illadelph to ATL
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| The wait is over, I’m a take it over
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| I’m a bubble like vinegar and baking soda
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| Easy!
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| Ayo, I’m a D-Block nigga — I don’t respect wack rhymes
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| If you had a gat in a clock, you couldn’t kill time
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| Yall cowards don’t want beef, why even start?
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| Yall like dicks in the pool — none of yall hard
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| Come thru in the spit white 330 with a mean birdie
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| Holdin my hammer cause she know its dirty
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| You got questions, holla at me — I tell you whats what
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| Lay you on ya back and yall chumps’ll really see whats up
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| On the real, yall niggas better chill
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| Think ya crew spittin flames — I’ll put ya hot dogs on the grill
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| It gotta be a conspiracy if niggas ain’t feelin me
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| Like a nigga with no eyes — yall not seein me
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| Call me a director — I give clips to ya broad
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| Bullets is like gum — How they stick in ya jaw
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| Go 'head, call the narcs — I put a hole thru ya heart
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| And leave you on the train tracks in a shopping cart
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| This ain’t just beats and bars, Its things i’ll do to you
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| You incompetent fuck, I’m tryin to get through to you
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| The gauge’ll open ya chest like vics
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| How you went from being soft to hard — niggas is dicks
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| I don’t wanna hear nothin bout ya coke and ya toast
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| Liars get shot in they tongue — I’ll put the mack to ya throat motherfucker! |